


A Beginning

by MistoElectra



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cats, Gen, Smittenjolras, enjolras is smitten, grantaire has a lot of cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistoElectra/pseuds/MistoElectra
Summary: Enjolras hadn't really seen Grantaire as anything more than a drunk.Until he saw him with a lapful of kittens.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 150





	A Beginning

Enjolras had to say, he’d never envisioned Grantaire as a cat person. Actually, scratch that, he’d never envisioned Grantaire to be the sort of person with a pet of any kind, an opinion which, in his head, was justified given how their resident cynic seemed to shirk off any responsibility aimed in his direction and only just managed to be capable of getting himself home most nights from the amount of alcohol he’d imbibe. There were very few memories that he could recall where Grantaire hadn’t had a bottle of something alcoholic clutched in his fist.

Now that he thought about it though, he’d never been to Grantaire’s flat, and he’d rarely seen him outside the context of either amis meetings or friendly get-togethers. Being in two completely different departments of the university (himself law, Grantaire art and classics), they never really ran into each other on campus. When it came to meetings though, Enjolras was almost certain that the dark-haired man hadn’t missed a single one. Always there, at the table in the corner, a bottle in front of him, and occasionally a pencil and sketchbook in hand (he’d never seen what Grantaire drew, another mystery). But what was important was that he was always there.

Until tonight.

At first he’d presumed the cynic was just late, which was hardly uncommon. But as the meeting had gone on, there’d been no sign of him, and, much as he hated to admit it, Enjolras had grown both distracted and concerned. Part of his mind (that sounded, upon contemplation, considerably like Joly) immediately thought the worst, that maybe Grantaire had finally drank himself into oblivion, that he’d hurt himself in his intoxication. So the moment the meeting had concluded, he’d shrugged on his coat and excused himself. He knew where Grantaire lived, he knew where all of them lived, just in case, and set off on the unfamiliar walk.

The relief that had spread through him when he’d heard Grantaire’s voice call a “door’s open” from inside the flat was palpable, only to quickly be replaced by confusion as he stepped inside and took in the sight in front of him.

Grantaire was…covered in kittens.

Well, covered was perhaps an exaggeration. There were three that Enjolras could see as he looked towards the artist sprawled across a threadbare couch. One seemed to be stalking his shoelaces, another was half buried in his dark curls, while the third was purring softly on his chest.

Enjolras had never been jealous of an animal before.

And where had that thought come from? He wasn’t quite sure, only that Grantaire was looking up at him with a surprised expression, a hint of uncertainty in his blue eyes as he sat up, reaching up to disentangle the kitten from his hair, cupping the one on his chest. Then the uncertainty slipped back into Grantaire’s familiar smirk.

“Apollo! To what do I owe the pleasure of you stepping down from Olympus?”

There it was, the familiar snark, but Enjolras wasn’t deterred, “You missed the meeting.”

Well, maybe not deterred, but maybe a little bit struck dumb and feeling a little hot under the collar watching Grantaire cradle two tiny kittens to his chest, ignoring one of them attempting to eat the collar of his t shirt.

“I would have thought you would have been pleased,” Grantaire snorted, briefly glancing down as a kitten mouthed at his fingers, ducking his head to press his lips to the furry head, and yep, Enjolras was definitely part way between melting completely and being extremely jealous of a kitten, “If you must know, I had to stay late at the shelter and then I had to get these three settled.”

“You have kittens.”

“Very astute of you Apollo. I have more than these three though,” Grantaire drawled lazily, “Sit down if you like. I promise, they’re harmless. No need to be afraid of a little kitten.”

“I’m not afraid of them!” Enjolras retorted hotly, before forcing himself to bite his tongue and perch on the edge of the couch, glancing across, “I’m just…surprised. I didn’t know you had pets.”

The cynic seemed to study him for a moment, a curious look in his eyes that Enjolras wasn’t familiar with. Not to mention, if he had to guess, he’d say Grantaire was almost completely sober judging by the clear look in his eyes, and that was something he was completely unused to. Before he could follow that thought any further though, he felt something wet and vaguely sandpapery against his hand, and when he glanced down, the little sandy coloured kitten that had been chewing on Grantaire’s shoelaces was now nosing at his fingers, mewling softly. Unable to stop himself, he scooped the little creature up, running a finger along its back and smiling as it emitted a remarkably strong purr for something so small.

“Figures. Of course Apollo likes you.”

Enjolras looked up surprised, catching sight of a gentle smile on Grantaire’s lip, and what seemed like fondness in his eyes, and for a moment, he just gazed back, wide eyed, until he finally snapped back to reality, his brow furrowing.

“Apollo?”

“I got to name them. They got brought into the shelter today, they’d been dumped on the side of the road, but we’re already so full, so I said I’d take them, which meant I got to name them. That one’s Apollo, because he’s so sunny, see? And this one,” he gestured to the one chewing his t shirt, “is Hermes, because he spent the entire time zipping about and jumping off any high ledge he could find as if he could fly,” and finally, he nodded to the last kitten, which seemed to have dozed off, “And this little lady is Hestia.”

“They’re sweet,” Enjolras murmured, continuing to stroke the little kitten, and feeling like any stress he might have been holding onto had evaporated with each motor-like purr, “I didn’t realise you worked at the shelter.”

The look of uncertainty was back but Grantaire just shrugged, “When I have the time. They struggle for volunteers sometimes, which is wild, because apparently people want to get paid for cuddling cats and dogs, and they can’t really afford that, not with how many animals they have. So I help where I can, take one of them home with me every now and again. Usually the ones that they struggle to rehome otherwise.”

His whole perception of the drunk was being rewritten, Enjolras found. So maybe he was still a frequently drunk cynic who liked to rile him up in meetings and didn’t believe in their cause. And yet here he was, volunteering at an animal shelter, taking in strays that they didn’t have the room for. Strays that included the three adorable kittens currently part of the reason for his own melting right now, along with their (he had to admit) quite adorable owner. 

“Maybe…maybe we could do something for them? The amis that is…a fundraiser of sorts. It might drum up some interest in volunteering as well?” he found himself suggesting, looking up from under his eyelashes towards where the dark-haired man was looking back in surprise. And then Grantaire smiled, not his usual smirk, but an actual, genuine smile that made his stomach twist in a not entirely unpleasant way.

And in that moment, Enjolras realised he would do anything to see that smile directed at him again.


End file.
